Famous Last Stands
by CottageGhost
Summary: In which Fraser and Vecchio get a taste of what ridiculous odds are, and keep that one speck of hope alive.
1. Chapter 1

**_Disclaimer: _**I'm just playing in Alliance's sandbox for a little while. I promise to put all the toys back when I'm done. This contains some mild language, so head's up.

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**_Famous Last Stands_**

"No, no, no…" Ray Vecchio muttered through clenched teeth as he ran as fast as his legs would carry him in hot pursuit of his partner, himself doing his level best to gain ground on a suspect who clearly had no intention of getting caught. _Why is this my life?_, he thought for what felt like the millionth time as he forced himself to keep pace with the relentless Mountie in front of him. Their day hadn't started – or should he say continued? – in the greatest of fashion; then again, considering the trouble they usually got themselves into, it was par for the course. Given that, Ray had hoped that that would be the extent of the excitement he'd have to endure for the day. But no, he thought with exasperation as he jumped over an overturned garbage can, hot on his friend's heels; Benny just _had_ to spot the perp they were pursuing from the corner of his eye, a perp, it must be said, who was on the wanted list of another precinct altogether and already on the verge of getting caught in their dragnet. Which, of course, made no difference whatsoever to his partner; there was a criminal on the loose, they were in the immediate vicinity, ergo, they had to catch him. Simple.

_Simple – right. On Fraser's planet, maybe,_ Ray thought, annoyed, as he started feeling his breath straining and his legs burning with the full-tilt run. Heaven knew his endurance had grown considerably since meeting Benny, but it still didn't make him a racehorse. Add to that the fact that he was running solely on a hastily downed coffee and bagel and a three-hour snooze… _Let's hope the scumbag got so traumatized by Sergeant Preston of the Yukon as a kid that he feels the overwhelming need to surrender and saves us the trouble – yeah, as if…_ "Oh, for God's sake," Ray grumbled as he saw the long, narrow flight of stairs snaking up the half-abandoned building filing past them. _Of course he's gonna go up those, dammit._ Sure enough, the clatter of running sneakers soon bounced off the brick walls, closely followed by the sure-footed gait of RCMP-issue shoes.

Benny was nearly two-thirds of the way up when the perp disappeared into the building, the Mountie maintaining his relentless pace. Just as Ray was beginning to consider slowing down, a stream of muffled obscenities reached their ears, closely followed by the thunder of a shot. _Whoa! That was no pea shooter, that's for sure, _Ray reflected as thoughts of rest were quickly replaced by concern for his weaponless friend, and annoyance at him for not slowing down one bit despite what they had just heard. The annoyance was buried just as quickly by fresh worry as the heavy thump of sneakers coming in their direction grew louder and louder, meaning the perp was coming back out -- also meaning that Benny would end up right in the sights of that gun.

Finding one last burst of speed within him, Ray pushed hard against the steps until he was close enough to Benny to touch him. Stretching forward for all he was worth, he tripped his friend, sending him sprawling though the open door even as the second shot sounded. With one final push of his burning legs, Ray burst through the door, drawing his gun as he stepped in front of Benny, who was already scrabbling to his feet.

Before he could take aim, Ray felt like a great fist had landed in the middle of his chest, throwing him smack into the recovering Mountie and down to the dusty floor. As consciousness fled, Ray waited for the impact of his body against the floorboards, but it never came. He just kept right on falling, and falling...

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Constable Benton Fraser was, at first, puzzled. He did not consider himself perfect, by any stretch of the imagination. But he _did_ have enough faith in his own abilities to know that he did _not_ trip over his own feet. That simply did not happen. So for him to be able to chase a criminal with relative ease over a veritable obstacle course only to trip over a doorjamb was simply ludicrous. Not to mention dangerous, as their prey turned out to be armed, a fact that had not been readily apparent when he and Ray – well, _he_ – had started giving chase.

Then, he had been surprised – first at finding himself headed for the floor a second time in less than a minute, then by the slightly ridiculous thought that Ray was actually much heavier than his slender frame would indicate. Rising to his elbow just in time to see the tail end of the shooter's sneaker-clad foot, Fraser remained still to see if he would decide to come back this way to hide, having heard the wail of approaching sirens filling the air. Apparently, the officers who, unbeknownst to the Mountie, had already been on the trail of the man had called for backup. Which meant that Fraser could concentrate on waking Ray up. _And likely winding him up for a major tongue-lashing at my expense, _Fraser thought with a slight wince as he moved up to his knees and proceeded to gently bring his friend back to his senses. The uneasiness Benny had felt at the thought of the rant he knew Ray had in store for him deepened into something far more unsettling as no amount of shaking or cajoling seemed to have any effect. Going against all his first aid instincts, he turned his friend on his back, fervently hoping he wasn't hurting him worse – then froze in complete shock at the sight of the blackened, nearly shredded front of Ray's coat, smelling strongly of burnt fibers and cordite. "Dear Lord in Heaven, no," Benny gasped out even as his trembling fingers frantically worked at the buttons holding the coat closed, hurrying to get to the wounded flesh underneath the fabric. Pulling the garment open with more force than necessary, he froze again at what he saw, before nearly fainting with relief: Ray was wearing a bulletproof vest – the one he had been wearing since the previous night, when their "day" had started. Things had gotten so busy that there hadn't been time for him to take it off. _And thank goodness for that,_ Benny thought with gratitude, his heart still thumping wildly in his chest, but for a different reason altogether.

Somewhat calmer now, he reached for the straps on either side of his friend's waist to undo them and give Ray some breathing room. He paused halfway through as he heard voices, then steps moving quickly up the stairs. Biting his lower lip, Benny glanced briefly at Ray's gun, lying on the floor close to his friend, trying to decide whether or not he should pick it up. Duty to the law dictated that he do no such thing; duty to his friend dictated that he protect him from any more harm, regardless of consequences. That particular duty was winning out when he heard the steps slow down and a voice saying, "Chigago PD – don't shoot!" The owner of the voice shortly followed, his dark head peering cautiously around the door. When he saw there was no danger, he came all the way in and knelt near Benny. "Joe Malone, Twenty-Third."

"Benton Fraser, RCMP," Benny replied with a brief glance at the man as he started again on the straps.

Malone grunted. "You're the Mountie who works with the Twenty-Seventh?"

Benny smiled slightly at that; word _had_ gotten around. "Yes."

Another grunt. "This would be Vecchio, then." Fraser nodded. "Sorry about that; seems our informant was a bit off the mark. We were this close to nailing our man when he slipped right by us. We _did_ get him, by the way, thanks to you two. In fact, he's the one who told us where you were." Malone glanced down worriedly at Vecchio. "Is he okay?"

"I should think so, but he won't be in a good mood for a few days," Fraser replied as he pushed the front of the vest over Ray's head. "Could you give me a hand with this, please?" With Malone's help, Benny was able to remove the vest completely. "Thank you kindly," he said as he lowered Ray back to the floor with the greatest of care. With one hand resting feather-light on his friend's chest, Benny moved the other one to Ray's face, knowing the touch, if nothing else, would reassure Ray even if he wasn't conscious enough to realize it was there.

Benny's eyes widened and he felt the color drain out of him as his hand encountered cold, clammy and oh-so-pale flesh. In a flash, the hand moved down to the side of the neck, where the fingers sought a pulse, only to find none. Swallowing hard, Benny moved the back of his hand under Ray's nose, hoping against hope for a faint puff of air against his skin. Nothing. Closing his eyes and taking one deep, calming breath, Benny shook his hand and willed it to still. _Easy, easy. You won't be any help to him if you crumble now._ Wiping his now-sweaty palm against his pant leg, he reached out once more for the pulse point, focusing all his attention on his fingertips, on the lookout for the faintest bump against their surface. Still nothing. An instant cold sweat covered him from head to toe, nearly freezing him out. Fortunately for both him and Ray, however, his training was too well-engrained to allow any such thing. Without a word, he took off his Stetson and his coat, then, under Malone's bewildered gaze, began the process of reviving his friend.

"Shit!" Malone swore as he ran to the door. "Officer down!! Get an ambulance over here!" he shouted down to the other officers, before coming back by Ray's side even as the call for help was being passed on outside. "What can I do?"

Fraser remained silent for a beat as he concentrated on his count, then said tersely, "Breathe for him."

Malone simply nodded and focused his attention on the Mountie's hands in order to get the rhythm. When the hands stilled, he bent down and blew air into Ray's mouth. Once he was done, the hands, under the grim blue gaze of the Mountie, took up their rhythm once more…


	2. Chapter 2

Ray sat up with a gasp, reflexively bringing an arm up to shield his eyes from the glare of the sun glinting off the pristine field of snow. _Snow?!?! What the hell?… _Cautiously, he lowered his arm, still squinting at the brightness, but becoming more and more accustomed to it with every passing moment. Once his vision had acclimated, though, Ray wasn't sure whether he should laugh or cry: that was snow, all right; miles and miles of it, far as the eye could see. The only break in it was a mountain range to the far left, and a thin line of trees within walking distance of where he sat – in the snow.

In the end, Ray neither laughed nor cried. He turned an annoyed glare toward the too-blue sky and shouted, "That's right, laugh at me some more, why don't you?!?!? I can't believe you haven't busted a gut yet laughing this much at my expense, you old f—"

"Now, there's no need to take His name in vain, son. You're in enough trouble as it is without antagonizing Him."

Whipping his head around, Ray narrowed his eyes as he watched a figure detach itself from the line of trees to his right, moving toward him with a sure-footed gait. It wasn't long before the figure resolved itself into a red-coated Mountie, prompting him to roll his eyes, then drop his head in defeat. _Why is this my afterlife?_ He snorted. _Why _wouldn't _this be my afterlife? Snow, Mounties… _Ray raised his head and looked around, half-expecting to see a pack of wolves come traipsing out of those woods. As it was, his eyes fell back on the approaching Mountie and remained fixed on him until he stopped a few feet away, close enough to allow Ray to have a good look at him, but not so close that he'd feel threatened. Something about him seemed familiar, Ray couldn't help but think, but whatever it was remained steadfastly elusive. It was still enough to put him at ease, though, so that he wasn't especially startled when the other man offered him a hand up. He gamely accepted it and soon found himself back on his feet, brushing the snow off his clothes while the Mountie watched with barely concealed amusement. _That's all I need, _Ray thought grumpily, _someone else laughing at me…_ "Look, no offense – " he glanced briefly at the man's uniform sleeve before continuing, "Sergeant…"

"Fraser. Robert Fraser."

"—Fraser, but…" Ray fell abruptly silent and stood stock still, staring at the other man. On the third try, he was finally able to squeeze some words out. "Robert Fraser? Benny's dad Robert Fraser?" A nod. Ray fell silent again. _What do you say to your best friend's dead father? Heck, what do you say to the victim of a crime you helped solve, for that matter? __G_athering all the dignity he could muster under the circumstances, Ray stuck out his hand. "It's a privilege to meet you, sir."

The older man smiled and took the proffered hand, returning the grip firmly. "Pleasure's all mine, son. It's good to finally meet you."

Ray ducked his head with a smile, feeling unaccountably warmed by the older man's words. The smile suddenly faltered, however, and was replaced by a puzzled frown as the words sank in. "'Finally'? What do you mean, 'finally'? I've never met you before."

Fraser Sr. grinned. "Not in the strictest sense, no. But _I _have seen _you _before."

The frown grew even more puzzled. "Really? When?" Hazel-green eyes widened as realization dawned. "Holy... He sees you, doesn't he? Benny. You're the one he's always talking to, right?" Ray nodded to himself without awaiting a response. "So, he's not just talking to himself after all," he muttered to himself softly, considering this new insight into his best friend with the wonder of a child. He had suspected something like that might be going on, but as he still hadn't known Benny that well when the subject of his father's "apparition" had come up, he had simply chalked it up as one more of the Canadian's weird idiosyncrasies. And now it turned out to be something far more different and wondrous. Boy, he couldn't wait to see the look on Benny's face when... His own face fell as the reality of his situation reasserted itself. _It's just like me to find out something like this when I can't do anything about it anymore,_ Ray thought sadly. _The things we could have shared..._

"For your information," Fraser Sr. replied, oblivious to Ray's misery-filled countenance, "Ben _does _talk to himself on occasion." The Mountie harrumphed, remembering with effort that this man was his son's friend and that he was here to help him, not alienate him. But that he should blame him – _him_, of all people! – for his son's tendencies… He already had his not-dead-enough mother to answer to; he didn't need another critic, especially not one who didn't know him from Adam. "It's all my father's fault, really," he continued more calmly, clasping his hands behind his back and gazing at the vista before him. "Kept talking to his books all day, for Godsakes. It was bound to rub off on the boy in such close quarters..." He waved that thought away with an impatient gesture. "But that's neither here nor there. The fact is, I'm not to blame for all of my son's little quirks; he came by most of them quite honestly, I assure you," he concluded with a nod, glad to have cleared the air on that particular score. Both his gaze and his stance softened, however, as he turned back to Ray and took in the sad, slightly defeated look now painted on his face. He had a good idea of what was going on in the American's head; finding oneself with one foot in the grave, so to speak, was rattling, to say the least. The trick, Fraser had found, was not to let it rattle you into giving up. _Death smiles at us all; all a man can do, in the end, is smile back, _he mused with a small smile. _Time to see if he's learned that one…_"And, by the way," Fraser Sr. drawled casually, "you're not dead."

That got him an instant reaction. Ray's head snapped up, his eyes grew wide and he actually took half a step back in something very akin to fear. "You can read my mind?" he asked in a small, quivering voice.

Fraser Sr. shook his head with a grin. "No. But I have been here often enough to know what's going on in that head of yours. It's a little early for regrets, son; take my word for it."

Ray stared at the older man narrowly for long seconds, not so much trying to decide if he should trust him or not as figure out what to do with the information he had just been given. In some corner of his mind, he knew he should be overjoyed at knowing that he wasn't on his merry way to some happy hunting grounds; but the possibility that he might end up just… roaming – however good the company – made his skin crawl. "Sooo, what is this place, then?" he asked eventually, wanting to hear the answer and dreading it in equal measure.

"The Borderlands."

That drew him up short. _The Borderlands? That wasn't part of any catechism I was ever taught_… "That's like what, Purgatory?"

Fraser Sr. shook his head. "No. Besides, don't you have to be dead to go there?"

Ray thought about that one, then nodded with a shrug. "Makes sense." He spread his hands, the puzzled frown he had worn earlier back in full force. "What's this place for, then? Keeping Mounties out of trouble while they're busy being too polite to go through the Pearly Gates?"

Fraser Sr. chuckled_. That's certainly one way to look at it_, he thought, amused. "No, not exactly. It's more of a... crossroads, I guess you could call it." He watched patiently as the other man cocked his head and considered his words for a beat.

"That implies a choice," Ray said finally, looking a little apprehensive at the thought of being right.

Fraser Sr. nodded. "It does indeed_." He's sharp as a tack, that one, _he couldn't help but think approvingly as Ray once again fell silent and pondered the Mountie's answer. _No wonder Ben doesn't get too much past him._

Again, apprehension churned in Ray's eyes. "How am I doing back there? Honestly."

It was Fraser's turn to ponder the question. Considering he didn't know this man very well, it still wasn't long before he decided that anything less than a straight answer wouldn't do. "Not good," Fraser Sr. replied truthfully, watching as Ray took that in fairly well, all things considered. But then, the man had thought he was already dead at first, so this, twisted as it was, was something of a step up. "If it's any consolation, Ben's working on you as we speak," Fraser Sr. offered not unkindly. "He's worried about you." That gave rise to a flood of emotions within the Italian's changeable eyes: shock at having his suspicions confirmed, fear at the outcome, whatever it may be, and... guilt? _Now where did that come from?_ Fraser Sr. wondered. "What is it?"

Ray shrugged, his hands deep in his pockets, his gaze fixed on his snow-covered feet. "Nothin'. It's just..." He shrugged again. "I hate putting Benny in this kind of position. He always takes it all so personally…"

Fraser Sr. nodded sagely. "He does have a tendency to do that," he acknowledged a little wistfully, myriad examples of this type of mood in his offspring flashing before his mind's eye. He shook his head. "But then, if he didn't always rush into situations he doesn't always have all the facts about…"

Ray looked up slowly, feeling his hackles rise on behalf of his friend even as a traitorous part of his mind agreed with the older Mountie. _Down, boy,_ he admonished himself, trying his best to keep a handle on his darkening expression, an expression he knew had made some seriously tough guys gulp. _Remember it's your best friend's father you're talking to here._ "What're you getting at?" he asked quietly, another sure sign that his temper was about to go into overload.

The Mountie, in familiar and typical Fraser fashion, remained totally oblivious to the impending Vecchio wrath. "Nothing. I'm just saying that he wouldn't have to get hurt so much – physically and emotionally – if he took the time to think before leaping. And excuse me for being blunt, but if he _had _thought things through before going on that merry chase, you wouldn't be here." He spread his hands. "QED."

It must have been a full minute before Ray's head and mouth got coordinated enough to produce a coherent sentence. And, even then, it wasn't stellar. "Are you insane?!?!?"

"Now, there's no need for name calling, son."

"Name calling?" Ray repeated incredulously, the earlier slow burn of emotions on the verge of turning into a full boil. "Is that what they call it in Canada? 'Cause it sure ain't what we call it back home. You ain't seen name calling yet, man."

The Mountie, damn him, looked genuinely clueless. "It's the simple truth."

That did it. Ray's anger bubbled over. "So what!?!?! Just because it is doesn't mean that you have to tell the whole wide world!!! And I can't believe you could say something like this about your own son, who also happens to be one of the kindest, most caring human beings you're ever likely to meet!" Ray shook his head disbelievingly as he started to pace back and forth, his eyes never leaving the Mountie's. As abruptly as he had started, he stopped, then boldly moved right into Fraser Sr.'s personal space. "Has it occurred to you that maybe he just cares about what happens to his fellow man? That that is the way he defines service, glory be damned? Huh?" Despite the urge to get right in the older man's face, Ray backed off and stepped away, shaking with contained fury. He respected the guy, he really did – if for no other reason than the fact that he was his elder and Benny's father – but he was damned if he was going to let him dismiss Benny's good-heartedness as nothing but stupidity the way others – the way he himself, he was ashamed to admit – had done. Well, never again. "And as long as we're assigning blame, have you ever considered that the reason he acts the way he does is you? That all he's trying to do is make you proud of him?"

Fraser Sr. simply gazed back into the younger man's stormy hazel eyes, absently thinking that he should give that upstart a piece of his mind, but finding that he couldn't. Because everything he had said was the truth. Every single word. Of course, he knew how Ben felt toward him; in fact, he had come right out and told him when he and his detective friend had caught Gerrard that second time around. That didn't mean he felt comfortable with that knowledge, and it certainly didn't mean that he felt more at ease expressing his own feelings. Finding he couldn't hold that knowing gaze any longer, Fraser Sr. glanced away, trying to find balance and solace in the familiar vista. Both remained stubbornly out of reach. _Space, space everywhere and not a hole to crawl into,_ he thought a little disgustedly, ashamed of his emotional cowardice, yet quite helpless to prevent it.

"I am proud of him," the Mountie eventually said softly, his thoughtful stance an unconscious imitation of Ray's earlier one. "Always was. I... I wanted to tell him, but I don't think I ever did. I _did_ try to show him, though; I'm not sure whether I succeeded or not."

Ray's anger evaporated like so much mist at the very real regret in the older man's voice_. Where do I get off, thinking I could tell him off like that_?!?! he thought, mortified at his own gall. Actually, he did have a good idea of where that came from; years of listening to Fraser Sr. anecdotes, good and bad, had left him with an ambivalent image of the elder Fraser. So anytime Benny did or said something that really got him good and riled, Ray found it easier to blame the father for the shortcomings of the son. Only now, Ray realized that, like his son, Fraser Sr. was only human, and just as prone to error as the rest of them. "Look, I'm sorry," Ray said contritely, finding it hard to look the other man in the eye. "I was totally out of line. I --" A small breath of slightly edgy laughter escaped him. "This place, it's... It's making me a little bonkers, I guess."

Fraser Sr. nodded and smiled understandingly, acknowledging the truth of Ray's angry words, his apology and his not-so-subtle plea for help in one fell swoop. "Quite all right. Made me bonkers, too, first time I ended up here." He cleared his throat. "Ben hasn't had the easiest life," he continued, feeling the need to explain. "I'm partly to blame for that. No, no, I mean that," he insisted, forestalling Ray's protest. "That's part of the reason why he is the way that he is. That's also why I wish he would learn to let things go once in a while and not feel like he's letting the world down if he doesn't help absolutely everyone in sight." He shook his head. "I just don't want to see him -- or you, for that matter -- die for him to learn that lesson. The way I did." The Mountie's lips quirked up a bit at the look on Ray's face. "You look surprised."

Ray shook his head with a small smile of his own. "Surprise doesn't even begin to cover it. It's just..." He spread his hands helplessly with a shrug. "You're just not what I expected."

Fraser Sr. chuckled at that. "I'm not what I expected, either, to be honest." It was his turn to shrug. "Death, like hindsight, is 20/20. It also lets you learn from your mistakes, if you're willing to put in the effort." His smile broadened. "So, are we good?"

Ray nodded with a smile, offering his hand for good measure. It was taken, without hesitation. "Yeah, we're good. Just one thing," he continued without releasing the hand. The Mountie looked at him questioningly. "You did manage to show him, you know. That you're proud of him."

For the first time in a long time, Fraser Sr. felt himself blush. "You think so?"

Ray nodded. "I know so. It's there every time he talks about you. Which is pretty much all the time," he said with a roll of his eyes, which got a laugh out of the older man. "And he _is_ learning to let go; he just needs to work at it some more."

Fraser Sr. nodded, both in acknowledgement and gratitude. He, too, had had an erroneous idea of who this man was. He was glad to finally be able to see what his son saw in him. "You'll help him?"

Sudden doubts clouded the younger man's eyes. "If I can."

The Mountie looked into that uncertain gaze and held it, willing a little fortitude into that lost, confused soul. He had no more power over his life or death than anyone, but he would sure as hell try his damndest to nudge him back toward the living. He smiled again as he took the other man by the elbow and got him walking alongside him in the direction of the mountains. "Come on, let's get you home. You have a family to go back to, and my boy needs someone to keep him in line..."


End file.
